Evening Hill Diaries 17
‘In the summertime when the weather is high…’
The Atlantic magazine stands for quality journalism. Their correspondents write well. Phrases used in a recent (June) article by
Mark Leibovich caught my eye.
He was writing about Barack Obama, amid disappointment that
one of the most intelligent of ex-Presidents has been keeping such a low
profile, particularly in view of Trump’s attempts to dismantle almost all of
the domestic achievements of Obama’s terms in office. Leibovich writes that ‘The Audacity of Hope’,
a phrase which must have originated during the Obama years, has given way to
what he calls ‘The Fierce Lethargy of Semi-Retirement’. The article is at:
https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2025/06/obama-retirement-trump-era/683068/
And what of Michelle and her commitment to the democratic
ideal? She has a book on fashion coming
out later in 2025, ‘a celebration of confidence, identity, and authenticity’,
she calls it…
A long way from the USA, parched Britain is experiencing
another heatwave with minimal or no rainfall (writing this on 12th
July). The new norm we are
informed. We may shortly be celebrating
Aberdonian cabernet sauvignon.
I caught a recent radio series of short vignettes about New
York in the early 20th century, when it briefly became the world’s
most populous city – in the ‘Jazz Age’.
Initially, my ear was caught by a short discussion of ‘The Great
Gatsby’, which was a notable failure on first release. But a short piece about the precarious
beginnings of the New Yorker magazine was fun too. In desperation, the editor rang Dorothy
Parker and asked her to come in and write something. When nothing appeared, he called her again. ‘Why don’t you come by the office and write
something? he said.
‘I did come by the office’, said Miss Parker, ‘but someone
was using the pencil.’
Early July
While Lindsay was showing her granddaughter the highlights
of Paris (Notre
Dame, Sacré
Coeur, Louvre, Galeries Lafayette, etc – her favourite being the Fragonard
perfume museum), I determined to visit a stage of the Tour de France in
Amiens. Finding a B&B near
Abbeville, I then pedalled along the Canal de Somme to my hotel in the city. For those who have not been, Amiens has a
great vibe, and it is easy to visit the étangs so memorably described by
Sebastian Faulks in Birdsong. The
cathedral, built in the High Gothic style between 1220 and 1270 (an unusually
short time for such a building), is the largest by volume in France. I wanted to revisit a monument, which I had
been shown on my first visit. At first
somewhat inconspicuous, the famous feature is concealed in a wall above head
height, on a memorial for a former canon.
It is ‘L’ange qui pleure’, the crying angel, dating to 1636. For understandable reasons, it became hugely
popular with soldiers of the First World War.
Postcards of the Crying Angel were sent to all corners of the British
Empire. Later, in my chambre d’hôtes, I
had difficulty explaining this to German tourists who wanted to see my pictures
of the cathedral before their visit the next day. Shades of Fawlty Towers; ‘I think I got away with it.’
 |
| L'Ange qui Pleure, Amiens Cathedral |
 |
| Amiens Cathedral, the West Façade |
 |
| The immense height of the interior, Cathedrale de Notre Dame, Amiens |
Amiens was the starting point for the fourth stage of this
year’s ‘Tour’, and it was estimated that 1.5 million people of the Hauts de
France region turned out for the tour of the region, which had begun in Lille. There were probably in excess of quarter of a
million Ch’tis (French slang for northerners) massed in the streets of
Amiens. After enduring hours of presentations by the
sponsors, which included a man dressed as a banana (Les bananes Françaises
de Guadeloupe et Martinique), the teams were presented. I pedalled back along the Somme canal while
the coureurs travelled a roundabout route to Rouen, in a stage won by Tadej
Pogačar,
the eventual winner of ‘La Grande Boucle’ (The Big Loop).
 |
| The man in the banana suit |
 |
| At last, the teams. Tadej Pogacar (World Champion Jersey) talks to Tim Wellens (Polka Dot Jersey) |
 |
| The peloton leaves town. G (Geraint Thomas) in his trademark white framed sunglasses |
 |
| Back along the Somme canal. Great Crested Grebe. |
 |
| Chateau de Long, Somme canal |
Diaries
Peter Rose, in Literary Review, writes about Australian
novelist Helen Garner, and her forthright diaries, recently published. ‘… Much can be done with the quotidian.’ He observes.
He writes, ‘Cynthia Ozick once described diaries as “vessels of discontent”. Consolidated hurts run through Garner’s.’
He also contrasts Garner’s frankness with Gladstone’s
comment about George Eliot’s letters and journals, edited by her second
husband, John Walter Cross, as “Three
volumes of reticence”.
If we are brave enough to admit it, much of our minds’
musings are sufficiently murky to render a completely frank diary either
distasteful, or uninteresting. But it is
worth remembering one of my psychiatrist teachers at UCH over fifty years ago,
who reminded us that the veneer between normality and madness is frighteningly
thin.
A recent biography of Albert Einstein, reviewed by Oxford
don Dmitri Levitin, explores not only his scientific achievements, but also his
thinking on other matters. He was active
on behalf of the Jewish community in Germany in the wake of the refugee crises
after the First World War, and supported the concept of a Jewish state. When Hitler became Chancellor in 1933, he
moved permanently to the United States, and was welcomed at Princeton. He could be sharply critical of ‘Zionists’,
however. He wrote, ‘Our Jews have
revealed themselves as chauvinistic nationalists without psychological instinct
and sense for equity in the matter of Palestine-Arabs’, in a letter to his
sister in 1930. How prescient!
My patient, Michael Katz (https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/7801506/Michael-Katz.html
), an émigré from Cologne, told me, when I collated his biography: ‘We didn’t
think of ourselves as Jewish; we thought of ourselves as German.’ Like Einstein, Katz only discovered his
‘Jewishness’ when he became aware of anti-Semitic comments. I helped to write his obituary, referenced
above, including the story of his return to Cologne to a trade fair, many years
later.
As far as the eye can see. Oats, north of Tollard Royal looking towards Wiltshire
 |
| Roses at sunset. Hampreston. National Gardens Scheme. |
Edinburgh Festival, August 2025
In 1960, the urbane comic duo, Flanders and Swan, elegantly
lampooned the ‘trendy’ approach to internal décor in the song, ‘We’re terribly
House & Garden’. During an interlude
from the song, Flanders said:
“Why not… collect all those little metal bottle-tops and
nail them upside down to the floor? This
will give a sensation of… walking on
little metal bottle-tops turned upside down and…” the remainder of the sentence was usually
drowned out by audience laughter.
Audience laughter from me when I visited the Museum of
Modern Art – on viewing the installation by Helen Chadwick and David Notarius
entitled ‘Piss Flowers’. I attach
photographs, but some explanation is necessary.
In 1990 and 1991, Helen and her partner, David Notarius,
visited Banff in Canada. They amassed
large mounds of snow and cut them into daisy shapes using a giant cookie
cutter. This created blocks of snow on
which they then urinated. After this creative artistic process (my italics), they poured plaster of Paris into the
holes, and subsequently cast the results in bronze. Photographs in the exhibition show them
‘creating’ the work, and include pictures of them drinking vast amounts of
liquid, which they needed to replenish the flow required. There was some additional tosh about the difference
between the male moulds and the female moulds, and its significance.
I don’t think I have ever laughed out louder in public and
in glorious isolation. I felt like an H
M Bateman cartoon; ‘The Man Who…
guffawed in the art gallery’.
 |
| This explains the exhibit. Surely worthy of inclusion in 'Pseuds Corner' of Private Eye? |
 |
| And here they are - 'Piss Flowers' |
A good start to this year’s Edinburgh campaign.
Eschewing various Fringe shows which had been deliberately
named just to catch one’s attention, for example, ‘Do Astronauts masturbate in
Space?’, we turned to the more reliable shows with great musicians and theatre,
the best of which is usually to be found at The Traverse. The highlights for me however, were in the
main festival programme. Gluck’s
‘Orpheus and Eurydice’ at The Playhouse featured the countertenor Iestyn
Davies, and accompanying dance of hugely athletic style by an Australian
company called ‘Circa’.
A new ballet, ‘Mary, Queen of Scots’ with modern Scottish
classical music, was simply superb. Mary
was danced by the relatively new Scottish Ballet principal, Roseanna Leney, in
a fetching Louise Brooks bob with a few red streaks to add authenticity. Bizarrely, but seemingly appropriate,
Elizabeth was danced by an old woman, and as a younger version, by an extremely
tall man, giving the correct feel somehow, of this strong woman in a man’s
world. The dancers playing Sir Francis
Walsingham’s spies, insect-like, crawled around to sinister effect.
Even the main festival programme event organisers are not frightened
of experiment therefore. Another joyous
experience was the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment playing a wide
selection of Bach, to accompaniment of Scotland’s best hip-hop dancers. Surprisingly effective, particularly in the
rhythmic sections.
 |
| Another typical Edinburgh catch your attention poster - who was it said of whom, 'His muse is not fettered by such inhibiting factors as taste.'? No, I didn't go to the show. After much research I found that it was a New York reviewer referring to Tom Lehrer. |
 |
| Another Edinburgh show - a young Australian whose addiction to drugs was cured by going back to his classical music training and particularly Chopin's Eb nocturne. A very poignant one hour show. |
 |
| A gentler Edinburgh image. Wonderful weather and lunchtime in Princes' Street gardens |
 |
| A fine portrait of 'Doddie' Weir, set against a background of the Eildon Hills, by Gerard Burns. Scottish National Portrait Gallery |
 |
| An interesting exhibition about James VI of Scotland and I of England. This was the finest work in the exhibition (my opinion) - a portrait by Rubens of George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham, James's favourite. It is not hard to see why. Scottish National Portrait Gallery. |
A happy time, but now September is upon us, and the summer
has ceased. The rain has come.
There is always time for a holiday, and this month it was
back to France to cycle our own version of the ‘Grande Boucle’ in circuits
based around the cities of Alençon and Le Mans. Most of these routes are on the Vélobouissonière
which links Alençon and Saumur in the Loire. ‘La Sarthe à Vélo’ signs are everywhere, and
many other cycleways and green routes link them. I had wanted to visit Le Mans, which was arguably
the centre of the Plantagenet dynasty of England in the 12th
Century. Empress Matilda, the only child
of Henry I to survive to adulthood married Geoffrey of Anjou. Henry II, who was born in Le Mans was
therefore grandson of Henry I, and father to Richard the Lionheart and John
(Lackland). His wife, Eleanor of
Aquitaine, brought him lands that meant the king of England was also lord and
ruler of most of western France.
The medieval centre of Le Mans is well preserved, and a
contrast to the vast industrial hinterlands which stretch all the way south to
the motor racing circuit. The visit
closed a circle, which began when, visiting Cyprus, I discovered that Richard
the Lionheart had married Princess Berengaria of Navarre in the Castle of St
George in Cyprus in 1191. He was on his
way to the Third Crusade.
Berengaria was something of a camp follower for several years. After Richard’s death in 1199 she lived at Le
Mans, and founded the Abbey of L’Epau, where she died in 1230. The abbey is austere and beautiful and worth
a visit. The cathedral of St Julian saw
the marriage of Geoffrey and Matilda, and the christening of Henry (II) in
1133. It reached its final form in the
15th century, but like many such buildings, was of gradual
construction such that the nave is Romanesque, but the choir is later, in
French gothic style. It has unique
bifurcating flying buttresses at its eastern end. In the late summer evenings, a wonderful
surprise for us, a magnificent light show is projected on the south door and
the western façade.
 |
| The Eastern end of St Julian's Cathedral, Le Mans. Note the unique bifurcated flying buttresses, and the chevets (multiple apsidal chapels), typical of French gothic |
 |
| Projection onto the south door of St Julian's Cathedral |
 |
| Images on the west front of the cathedral |
 |
| The spare and sedate interior of the Abbey of Epau |
 |
| The gisant (recumbent figure) of Queen Berengaria of England. The dog at her feet symbolises faithfulness, and the lion the courage of her husband, Richard I of England. |
 |
| A contrast. Jackie Stewart's race car, the Tyrrell Ford. Le Mans motor museum. |
The routes of the Sarthe and the Loir (the smaller river; not the Loire) are as usual in rural France, quiet and peaceful. Autumn was in the air: cyclamen dotted the spaces under the trees; the tournesols (sunflowers) had dried and finally turned their heads away from the overbearing sun. Sweet chestnuts lay on the ground and we gathered walnuts from the edges of the plantations where they had fallen. A glut of apples gave colour to gardens and orchards. The occasional giant tractor bowled past carrying corn (maize) which had been de-husked by some remarkable machine. The leaves were turning. The temperature was exceptionally warm, and we were glad of our electric bikes to ease the journey.
Cyclamen, signs of Autumn
 |
| The River Sarthe at St Leonard des Bois |
 |
| Noyen-sur-Sarthe |
 |
| The River Loir at La Fleche |
 |
| Sand yachts, the bay of Mont-Saint-Michel. |
And now (October), it is autumn, with another Indian
summer. Team Europe retained the Ryder
Cup. The Vuelta a Espana was won by
Jonas Vingegaard (creditable 3rd place for Briton Tom Pidcock). We await an Ashes series in Australia.
And during the visit of Swiss friends, Storm Amy did its
best to destroy our Swiss flag.
A ragged Swiss flag in the aftermath of Storm Amy
No comments:
Post a Comment